


Phases

by Iknowyouknowleeknow



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: I also wrote it on my phone so it's probably full of mistakes, I think with certain types of stories it works, I used it a few times back when I used to write 1D, M/M, but if it's weird to read please let me know and I won't do it again, hyunjin and felix are mentioned, inspired by PrettyMuch's new song Phases, sorry if this writing style is weird, this took me way too long to write because I kept getting distracted everytime I finished an age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowyouknowleeknow/pseuds/Iknowyouknowleeknow
Summary: "You shuffle through phases like songs on your playlist"





	Phases

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely inspired by PRETTYMUCH's new song, [Phases](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJjeVuIGwa8)

Jisung was nine the summer Minho moved in next door. The other boy was 10, all starry eyes and tanned skin and bruised knees, and Jisung was instantly enamored.

  
They fit together like puzzle pieces, always attached at the hip, and Jisung saw forever in the other boy’s smile.

  
That year was racing bikes and catching frogs and eating ice cream until they both felt sick.

  
-

  
When Minho was 11, the two boys spent summer nights sneaking out of their rooms and meeting in the treehouse in Jisung’s backyard. They entwined hands and danced to the songs Jisung made up on the spot, turning into giggling messes whenever their parents caught them and told them to go back to bed.

  
That year was bright eyes and secret smiles and long nights that made it seem like anything was possible.

  
-

  
When Minho was 12, he stole Jisung’s first kiss on a humid day a week after the end of school. Their lips were clumsy and unsure, still stained red from the cherry popsicles they’d eaten earlier.

  
That year was trembling hands and messy kisses and pretty wildflowers tucked behind Jisung’s ear.

  
-

  
When Minho was 13, he started middle school and decided Jisung could be his friend and nothing more. He took up skateboarding and grew his hair long, dressed in scuffed Vans and t-shirts three sizes too big and sprinkled curse words liberally into his speech.

  
Jisung spent every day after school at the skatepark with him anyway, heels knocking off the wood of the halfpipe where he sat. He did his best to ignore the way Minho ignored him, choosing instead to scrawl lyrics in the worn journal he carried everywhere.

  
The older boys at the skatepark wanted nothing to do with Minho, snorting with laughter every time he tumbled to the ground. It didn’t stop Minho from getting back up and trying again, nor did it stop him from circling the edge of their conversations, trying desperately to fit it.  


  
He acted unbothered, but Jisung could see the constant rejection taking a toll on him, could see as the light in his eyes dimmed more and more with each passing day.

  
That year was bleeding knees and a broken wrist and the petals of wildflowers drifting in the wind as Minho kicked them apart.

  
-

  
When Minho was 14, he discovered Good Charlotte and Panic! at the Disco and dyed his hair black. He lined his eyes with kohl pencils stolen from his mom’s bathroom and stopped trying to fit in with his peers.

  
On bad days, he wouldn’t speak to Jisung at all, would storm past the boy waiting for him on his front steps, thick soled black boots nearly crushing Jisung’s songwriting journal in his haste to get by.

On good days, he’d blast his music and grab Jisung by the hands and spin them around his bedroom. On those days, with Minho’s fingers tangled with his own and their laughter spilling over chapped lips, Jisung could pretend that things hadn’t changed. That Minho was still the same boy he knew and loved.

  
That year was poster plastered walls and a fake lip ring and chipped black polish on nails bitten to the quick.

  
-

  
When Minho was 15, he decided to try out for the high school soccer team. His hair was chestnut and his knees were grass stained and he looked so much like the boy Jisung had fallen in love with that it hurt.

  
Jisung went to every game, small and alone on the bleachers, his journal his only companion.

  
Sometimes Minho’s parents would be there and they would make passing comments of how they didn’t see Jisung around much anymore. He would smile tightly and mutter something noncommittal, staring at the field until they took the hint and left to go sit with the other parents.

  
Minho wasn’t great at soccer, but he was a star anyway. The confidence he’d lost in middle school was back and on full display when he stepped out onto the pitch. He’d run his fingers through his sweaty brown hair, pushing it off his forehead with a wink towards the stands as he stood with one hip cocked at midfield. His legs were strong, thick thighs peeking out of his nylon shorts, and Jisung heard more than one comment about them from the gaggle of girls that always sat in the front row and cheered only for Minho.

  
After the game Minho would come over, glancing up briefly to meet Jisung’s eyes, before accepting the hugs and praise from his admirers.

  
Jisung would sling his backpack over his shoulder and clomp down the bleachers, muttering a soft ‘good game’ as he passed Minho.

  
Some days he got a response.

  
Most days he didn’t.

  
That year was lonely nights and lonelier days and a soccer ball smashed through Jisung’s window during a fight he was afraid they would never recover from.

  
-

  
When Minho was 16, he started dating around. Jisung was in high school now too, and he’d see the other boy at his locker every morning, the girl of the month attached to his lips. Sometimes it felt as if he was doing it purely to make sure Jisung noticed, loud and boisterous and showy.

  
Jisung acted like he didn’t, walking past with his head down and his heart in his stomach.

  
Then one night, halfway through the school year, Jisung found Minho tossing rocks at his window. When he finally let him in the older boy was desperate, hands everywhere and nowhere all at once, his mouth hot and needy against Jisung’s own. They tumbled to the bed, tangled together in a way Jisung thought they’d never get to be. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, naked and content and comfortable the way they used to be.

  
The next morning Minho was gone, nothing to show he’d been there except the sick feeling in Jisung’s stomach.

  
When Jisung got to school, a new girl was hanging off Minho’s arm. His lazy smirk and her mouth running over the marks Jisung had left the night before were a slap to the words Minho had whispered against his lips in the quiet darkness of Jisung’s room.

  
That year was broken love confessions and the sharp sting of not being enough and a night Jisung couldn’t bring himself to regret, no matter how much he tried.

  
-

  
When Minho was 17, he decided to participate in a foreign exchange student program. He spent three months across the world in Australia and a freckle faced boy named Felix made Minho’s room his own.

  
Felix was sweet and attentive and the type of friend Minho had once been. The pair spent hours in the treehouse, Felix making up dances to the songs Jisung had started recording in his bedroom.  


  
Felix was constant encouragement and bright smiles and friendship without any expectations.

  
Minho returned from Australia in April, with a warm tan and a promise ring on his right hand.

  
The boyfriend he’d left behind was blonde and beautiful and a swimming champion, so much more than Jisung had ever been.

  
Minho rekindled their friendship to gush about him, starry eyed and pink cheeked on Jisung’s bed, sounding so much more like the boy he’d once been.

  
That year was a lifelong friend and winning the school talent show and holding Minho though the nights he spent crying over a broken heart, a pale strip of skin on his right ring finger.

  
-

  
When Minho was 18, he officially came out. There was some backlash, but mostly acceptance, and he dyed his hair pink and started wearing sparkly shadows that made his eyes pop.

  
He smiled at Jisung in the hallways and drove him home after school, giggling brightly whenever anyone asked if they were together.

  
Jisung huddled deeper into his hoodie whenever that happened, a painful squeeze in his heart at the fact that Minho found the thought of them dating laughable.

  
They spent hours driving around in Minho’s car, the mixtapes Jisung sacrificed sleep for blasting loudly through the speakers. Sometimes Minho would ask where he got his inspiration, singing along to the lines that spelled out the deepest truths of Jisung’s heart. He never told him that they were all because of him, just smiled softly and glanced out the window, forever silent even as Minho poked and teased.

  
That year was chocolate milkshakes and crimson painted sunsets and the feeling that fate had finally brought Minho home to him.

  
-

  
When Minho was 19, he went away to university and told Jisung that he didn’t want to be held back by childhood friendships.

  
Jisung wrote more songs, ignored the emptiness in his heart and did his best not to check Minho’s social media. Sometimes he couldn’t help it and he’d find himself scrolling for hours through Twitter and Instagram, his stomach twisting in knots as he wondered if this was the year it was finally real. If this was the time that Minho didn’t come back to him.

  
That year was sleepless nights and five cups of coffee a day and a full ride music scholarship to the same university that Minho was attending.

  
-

  
When Minho was 20, he reluctantly agreed to share an off-campus apartment with Jisung. He was out more than he was in, always clad in tight leather pants and low cut shirts and smokey eye makeup that painted him more sultry than he already was.

  
Sometimes he came home with someone else. Once in awhile he came home alone. Mostly he didn’t come home at all, not until the next afternoon, heavy bags under his eyes and a hangover pounding his head.

  
On the rare occasion he didn’t go out, he’d do shots in their kitchen, trying to goad Jisung into drinking with him. Jisung would always refuse and head to his own room, but not before leaving a bottle of water and a couple headache pills on the other boy’s dresser.

  
That year was pronounced collarbones and a new rapper friend named Changbin and the rhythmic pounding of Minho’s bed against Jisung’s wall finding its way into all of his songs.

  
-

  
When Minho was 21, he met a dancer named Hyunjin and switched his major. He stopped drinking and started spending all his time at the studio, returning flushed and tired and healthy.  


  
He choreographed pieces to Jisung’s music whenever he could, sitting the younger boy down on their threadbare couch and putting on a show just for him. Jisung would applaud and tell him he was beautiful and talented and the best dancer Jisung had ever seen.

  
He’d light up at the compliments, tackling Jisung on the couch and tickling him until they both couldn’t breathe, smiling down at him and telling him that he was wrong, that Jisung was the talented one.

  
That year was slowly rebuilding their friendship and long nights on the couch and an oversized bouquet of roses pressed into Minho’s hands after his first successful dance showcase.

  
-

  
When Minho was 22, he knocked on Jisung’s bedroom door and apologized in a voice thick with tears, sorry for not loving Jisung properly all his life.

  
-

  
Jisung wrapped his arms around his crying friend, letting Minho press his face into the shoulder of Jisung’s worn hoodie, “It’s okay.”

  
“It’s not,” Minho sniffled loudly, slipping his own trembling arms around Jisung’s waist. “You’ve always been the best person in my life and I’ve barely ever treated you that way. Not since we were kids. How are you still here? Why didn’t you give up on me?”

  
“It wasn’t my place to conflict with you living your life. I knew you’d find yourself eventually.”

  
“I don’t deserve someone like you,” Minho pulled back slightly, his arms still locked around Jisung as his wet eyes searched the other boy’s face. “You’ve always known who you are. You’ve been writing songs since we were kids. Hell, you’ve been wearing this same sweatshirt since you were 13. I’m a mess. I’ve been a mess for years.”

  
Jisung tipped Minho’s chin up, pressing a kiss full of promise to the older boy’s lips.

“Yes, I’ve always known who I am. But I’ve also always known who you are, even when you didn’t. And you aren’t any of those phases. I knew you’d come back to me. And I was willing to wait. Because the biggest part of me has always and will always be loving you. My life isn’t complete without yours.”

  
That year was comfortable kisses and a music internship with the most important company in the industry and the feeling of finally being home. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting to work on what I'm hoping is going to be a chaptered fic (just a short one, like 3 to 6 chapters) and I honestly just posted this one shot because I wanted to ask you guys if you would prefer for me to post chapters as I write them or just wait until it's all finished and post it all at once  
> my writing [tumblr](http://vminni.tumblr.com/) and my normal [tumblr](https://thatkpopkidmarklee.tumblr.com/)  
> thank you for reading and thank you once again for all the love I've been recieving


End file.
